


Now I walk under a pink sky

by goldenheadfreckledheart



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Hikers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4552983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheadfreckledheart/pseuds/goldenheadfreckledheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bellarke-as-hikers one-shot for beans-shadow on tumblr.</p><p>Featuring: Miscommunication and a lot of swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now I walk under a pink sky

He’s already there when she shows up at the trail Monday morning, and she fucking  _swears_  that he’s waiting for her, because he starts up the trail just moments after she gets out of her car.

Hiking is Clarke’s preferred form of exercise: She gets to take in the surroundings while working up a sweat, and she doesn’t have to  _run—_ which is always a plus.

She comes to the trail at Mount Weather at least twice a week, because it’s just the right level of intensity, and because she never really gets tired of the scenery there. And maybe,  _maybe,_  because of the curly haired asshole who tends to show up the same days she does, hiking just far enough ahead of her to turn back with an infuriating, taunting smirk every once in a while.

Okay so she’s too far away to actually tell if he’s smirking, but why else would he be turning around so often?

When her feet hit the trail that day, she makes it her goal to wipe that smile from his face. (It’s less of a plan than it is a general feeling of anger that makes her feel slap the dirt path harder than they usually do.)

She keeps pace behind him for about the first half of the hike, and the motherfucker stays true to habit and  _keeps looking back at her._  Except this time she pays a little more attention and notices that he does it every twenty minutes. Like, on the dot. She’s not sure if it’s strange or just  _way more irritating_ that he’s messing with her on a fucking  _schedule_.

It gives her an idea though, because if he’s working with a set schedule, she can make that work for her.

The next time he turns around, she pretends she doesn’t see him, keeping her eyes trained on the path. And as soon as his back faces her again, she picks up her pace.

She’s actually almost jogging at one point, which is awful, but she’ll apparently go to many lengths for revenge…or, whatever it is she’s doing right now. It’s probably then that she realizes that this might not be her best idea.

When she gets close enough to see the sweat on the back of his shirt—and to note, begrudgingly, that he has an impressive back—she slows her feet to just faster than her usual hiking pace.

By her watch, they’ve nearly finished the incline up to the small bridge that spans a gurgling stream when it’s almost time for him to turn again.

She walks as close behind him as she dares, reducing that space to about fifteen feet when she notices the headphones in his ears, and prays he doesn’t hear her footsteps.

Just on time, he glances down at his watch and she closes a little more of the distance, and then he’s turning and her heart’s pounding and— _shit, she wasn’t expecting him to be this attractive_.

His eyes, bordered underneath by a smattering of freckles, go wide when they meet hers.

“Shit.” He pulls the headphones from his ears quickly, and it’s pretty satisfying to see him flustered.

“Yeah. Um…” She’s not nearly as articulate as she’d planned to be, coming to a stop in front of him.

They stare at each other for a silent second, until she shifts her foot, the grind of the gravelly rocks breaking the spell.

“So,” she coughs, clearing her throat, “Are you going to explain why you’re like, reverse stalking me? Or whatever this is?”

His face, which held something like nervousness before, shifts to annoyance. If there wasn’t a smirk on his face before, there definitely is now.

“Don’t flatter yourself Princess.” He says, rolling his eyes. Asshole. “It’s a public trail. It doesn’t suddenly become private property just because your feet touch it.”

Jesus fuck, what did she do to deserve dealing with this asshole? She takes a step closer and jabs a finger at him, not quite touching him.

“Look. I don’t care if you think I’m some privileged airhead.” He raises his eyebrows but she keeps going.

“Really. Like, sure, fuck off, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m a big enough person to not care what your sorry ass thinks about me. What does bother me is you leering back at me over your shoulder every twenty minutes when I’m just trying to get some fucking exercise between night shifts.”

She pauses to breathe, and to notice that his face is just a little less smug than it was seconds before. (She thinks there might be a pinkness to his cheeks that wasn’t there before, but chalks it up to the hill they’ve just climbed.)

“What bothers me  _most_ though,” she hisses, “Is the thought that I’m probably not the only woman you do this to, because I know how guys like you are. So do us all a favor and keep your eyes on the damn path and mind your own business.”

She hadn’t necessarily planned to get this worked up, but the look of guilt on his face is kind of worth it. She brushes past him and up toward the bridge. Because she still has a damn workout to finish.

“Shit,” she hears him breathe from behind her. A beat. “Wait!”

“Not happening.”

“Please–oh god. I’m so sorry, let me explain.”

There’s something earnest in his voice that has her turning back to him, her feet stopping just short of the wooden bridge. She was ready for a comment like ‘that time of month, huh?’ Not necessarily an apology. She raises an eyebrow.  _This should be good_.

“I um, shit. I don’t do this to anyone else,” she opens her mouth to protest— _like that makes it any better?_ —but she doesn’t get the chance, “And I didn’t even realize you could see me looking back, because shit, yeah–I have a sister and if I saw a guy doing to her what I was doing, then yeah, I’d probably kick his ass.”

She’s kind of intrigued now, in spite of herself. He’s alternating between rubbing the back of his neck and running a hand through his hair in agitation.

“Fuck. No way I explain this sounds good. You’re cute and I’m incredibly inept.”

Okay. Not what she was expecting.

“And apparently incapable of interacting with girls like a normal person. So yeah, really sorry.” His hand is at his neck again and he’s turned halfway back toward the trailhead, “I’ll stop coming here the same days you do. You’ll never see me again, promise. ”

Her mouth is dry as he walks away from her.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t usually hike at Mount Weather on Tuesdays, but she’s there early the next day. She makes her way up to the stream and takes a seat on the edge of the bridge, feet dangling above the water.

Her watch ticks off the minutes past her usual workout time, and this is  _stupid_  but she’s already there, so she just keeps waiting.

She’s been there nearly an hour when she catches sight of him just behind the swell of the incline. He doesn’t notice her until he’s much closer.

When he does, he pulls his headphones slowly from his ears as he approaches her. Once he’s within speaking distance, he says, “I swear I didn’t know you’d be here…”

She stands, shuffles her feet a little, and winds her hands together. “No. I um…wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

“Turns out you’re not the only one who needs to apologize.”

He opens his mouth to protest, which is cute, really, but she’s not done. She releases her hands to let them fall at her sides. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re still totally at fault here. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have been a little nicer.”

He barks a surprised laugh and she doesn’t pretend not to enjoy it. His hair’s a little less disheveled than I was the day before, but it’s still messy and she’s hit by the injustice of someone being adorable _and_  attractive at the same time.  _That can’t be fair._

“So yeah. I’m sorry that I mistook your…um…incompetence in flirting…for being a creep.” She rubs a hand over her eyes, “Shit, that didn’t come out how I wanted it to.”

She glances up to find him laughing again.

“No, that’s um,” he says between laughs, “That’s basically the gist of it.”

He sobers after a few seconds, “Seriously, though. Sorry again.”

She cracks a smile and he returns it, tentatively.

“I’m Clarke.”

“Bellamy.”

“So, um, you have plans after this?”

He blinks at her. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

His grin is blinding. “Race you to the top?”

A laugh bubbles out of her chest and she leans up on impulse to press her lips to his cheek—and gets the added bonus of enjoying his stunned silence. “Alright, but I’m not running up there.”

She’s about ten feet in front of him, a smug smile of her own at her lips, when she hears his feet start to move as he finally manages a response.

“Hell no, running is the fucking worst.”

 

* * *

 

They get coffee afterwards and he’s really fucking smart and he makes her laugh and she’s pretty glad she decided to yell at him.

She makes it til the end of their hike the next day until she gives in and kisses him.

It’s pretty romantic, she thinks, her hands in his hair, his around her waist, as they stand at the look-out, a valley spread beneath them on one side, the city on the other.

**Author's Note:**

> *Edit: In case it's not clear, Bellamy is a dumb idiot who forces himself to only look back the cute blonde hiking behind him every 20 minutes--rather than every 20 seconds, like he wants to.
> 
> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://www.goldenheadfreckledheart.tumblr.com)?


End file.
